


Like A Virgin

by AliceInKinkland



Category: Veronica Mars (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bad Sex, Case Fic, F/M, Past Rape/Non-con, nominally set in s3 but referencing zero s3 plot points
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-06
Updated: 2017-09-06
Packaged: 2018-12-24 12:17:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12012570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceInKinkland/pseuds/AliceInKinkland
Summary: When a case she shouldn't have taken brings up feelings she'd rather not deal with, Veronica seeks solace in a new sexual experience. Spoiler alert: that may not be the best plan.





	Like A Virgin

“Veronica Mars?”

The speaker—a guy, tall, light brown skin, nondescript clothes but expensive sneakers—corners Veronica in the Hearst cafeteria. She’s eating alone, which she’s discovered to her relief carries only mild loser connotations in college, which drop to virtually zero when you have a textbook open in front of you and it’s midterm season.

“Can I help you?” Veronica says, losing her spot in her reading on Philip Zimbardo.

“I heard you’re the girl to ask if I’m having a problem?”

“That depends. Pretty good with car trouble, not so much with calculus.”

The guy frowns, his face a picture of confusion. “You do, like, detective shit, right?”

“Yes. Sorry, my humour isn’t at its best during midterms. And actually, I’m not technically open for business during midterms, either. But tell me the issue, I’ll let you know if I can help.”

He sits down across from her. “I’m Fabian,” he says. “And it’s my ex. She’s with this new guy, and I don’t think he’s treating her right. I know,” he says, looking at Veronica’s face, “I just sound jealous and desperate. But he’s—just look.” He pulls out a laptop. “She posted this on Facebook last weekend.”

Veronica pulls the laptop towards her and reads the post he’s displayed out loud. “‘ _Reaffirmed my purity today with Tom McKenzie. I feel reborn! My virginity is precious, and I’m so grateful to have this second chance to wait until my wedding night._ ’” Below the text is a photo of a man and woman, both white and blond, holding hands, with a heart-shaped frame superimposed around the edges of the photo. “OK, so—” she reads the name beside the post— “Leya Bridges missed the memo on not oversharing about her True Love Waits vow on social media. But unless you think Tom held a gun to her head and forced her to make that status, I’m not sure what you think I can do about it.”

Which is too bad, really, because Veronica could use some extra cash. Midterms have her racing out the door without packed lunches and buying more of her meals and pick-me-up coffees from the caf, and if she’s being honest, she was so not prepared for the price of college textbooks. It’s like those things were made to eat up student loans. She’s been letting Logan pick up the tab when they go out with less and less resistance, and it’s a dynamic that makes her gut twist uncomfortably every time. So yeah, a paying case would be nice right about now.

The guy shakes his head. “No, you don’t—she’s not a virgin, is the thing. OK? I would know.”

Veronica raises her eyebrows, and moves her hand in a circular _go on_ gesture.

“We were together for three years. And trust me—she never had a problem with giving it up. And she had at least one other guy before me, I know she did, although she didn’t really like to talk about it. Then all of a sudden, she breaks up with me, starts dating this Tom guy, and, I don’t know, finds God or something. She’s a completely different person now—she barely talks, doesn’t come to parties, hardly smiles even. And now she’s done some kind of ceremony with him to ‘make herself a virgin again’ so she can pretend she’s waited until marriage all along.”

Huh. “It’s definitely weird. But a lot of college students re-invent themselves. And piling on more and more layers of denial is some people’s idea of growing up. I’m not sure what you want me to do.” Veronica wants there to be a case here, but she really isn’t sure if there is.

“Just—look into him. Please? Just make sure she’s OK. I can pay.”

Veronica smiles ruefully. “You drive a hard bargain. $50 a day, plus expenses.” _The “this will be slower than usual because I have five tests in the next two weeks” discount._

Fabian nods. “It’s a deal. Here’s my number, if you need anything.” He scribbles it down on a napkin and slides it across the table. Veronica shakes his hand.

* * *

Tom McKenzie, Veronica discovers, is from San Diego, and he drives back home once a month in a second-hand Honda, which—along with his teacher parents—puts him roughly in the same tax bracket as the Mars family. Apart from leading bible study meetings three times a week, his schedule seems like that of a typical college student, albeit not one who parties hard—he goes to class, plays intramural volleyball, and microwaves ramen at midnight in his dorm.

So far, so normal, but Veronica knows more than most that dark secrets can come in all kinds of packages.

* * *

“I don’t know if this is good news or not, but I got nothing.” Mac turns her computer towards Veronica. They’re in the library after hours, and the screen glows bright and artificial in the gloom. She counts on her fingers: “No disturbing notes or bookmarks on his computer, no indication that he’s tracking Leya’s movements or finances, no red flags in the emails he sends to her, nothing. He does read some stuff about abstinence and being a ‘good Christian man’ that I found kind of borderline sexist, and I don’t think he’d be cool with Leya getting an abortion—but there’s really nothing you can point to as immediately concerning.”

Veronica nods. “Three nights of surveillance and he hasn’t done anything suspicious. And after one evening of bible study, I know more about Corinthians than I ever needed to, but he was very friendly and patient—unless he’s putting up a really good front, he seems like a decent guy.”

“Which is good news, right? I mean, it really doesn’t seem like this girl is in an abusive relationship.” Mac closes her computer, and now the only light in the room is the fading sunset, muffled through stained glass.

“Well, yeah. But why is she so different all of a sudden? Fabian says she’s quieter than she used to be.”

Mac frowns. “Then she’s changed. People do that. But unless it’s something serious, her ex doesn’t need to know about it. Just go back to him, tell him she’s fine. Need I remind you that you have midterms to be worrying about?”

Mac is right, of course. There’s no reason to keep looking into this. Except—something tugs at the back of Veronica’s mind, and she recognizes the pull of a thread to be unravelled, too tempting to resist.

* * *

The weather is just getting cold enough that any students who aren’t from southern California have started look mildly annoyed that Neptune isn’t like the tourism ads 365 days a year. Veronica has so far endured two conversations in one day about how “no one tells you to pack jackets,” which makes her avoid eye contact even more than usual as she leaves class and walks back towards her car. That and the fact that she’s so lost in thought she isn’t sure if she’d make any sense if anyone did try to make small talk with her. There’s something about Leya that she’s missing, she’s sure of it.

She shakes her head. The whole thing is ridiculous—virginity isn’t just something you put on and take off at will. If it were, well. Veronica has some ideas about what—and whom—she would and wouldn't want included in her personal sexual history.

The idea makes her pause. What are some reasons, besides simply increased religiosity, for someone to want to reject their previous sexual experiences? General feelings of shame or regret—or maybe a more specific incident in their past. _She never had a problem with giving it up. And she had at least one other guy before me._ Was one of those other guys—or Fabian himself—the catalyst for her sudden personality change?

She rummages through her bag for the paper Fabian left her, then dials his number. “Hi, Fabian? This is Veronica. I need to talk to some of Leya’s friends. Especially people she’s known for a long time. You can? OK, thanks so much.”

* * *

“I know about what Fabian Garcia did to you.”

Leya is putting up a poster on the school bulletin board. She stops and looks at Veronica, confusion clearly visible on her face. “Fabian? What do you mean, ‘did to me’? And sorry—who are you?”

Veronica snaps her fingers in a better-luck-next-time gesture. “Oops. 50/50 chance. Let’s try this again. I know what Andrew Cameron did to you.”

“Who are you?” Leya repeats, her expression annoyed, but not before Veronica glimpses fear and knows that she’s right.

“My name’s Veronica Mars. Fabian’s worried about you. He hired me to make sure you’re OK. But you’re not, are you? Because Andrew—he raped you, right? That’s why you want to pretend you’re still a virgin, because you wish your first time had gone differently.”

Leya’s face crumples. “It’s not about pretending, it’s a second chance. I just want it to be on my terms. You know? Before Andrew, I planned to wait until marriage, but afterwards...I guess I thought I couldn’t anymore, so why even bother. So when Fabian asked if I wanted to, you know, do it, I said yes. But I never—-he was a sweet guy, OK? But I never felt like I could tell him anything about what happened to me. So when I started going to church again, and met Tom…”

“You finally found someone you could talk to, and the virginity delusion was just a bonus.”

Leya takes a step back as though burned. She wipes her tears angrily off her face. “I don’t know who you think you are, but you do not get to speak to me that way. I finally found someone who shares my beliefs and values, and I’d appreciate if that’s all you told Fabian.”

“Leya, I don’t know. He’s really worried about you. Enough to hire me.”

Leya shakes her head in disgust. “You just don’t get it, do you? You’ve clearly never been raped.”

Veronica stands in place for a solid minute once Leya’s gone, staring at the poster Leya just put up but reading none of it.

* * *

_I just want it to be on my terms._ OK. Veronica gets _that_. She’s not about to go all born-again, but she can see what Leya’s move boils down to: hope, painted hastily over top of fear, all too familiar. And Veronica can’t judge that. Or she shouldn’t. She won’t judge that too much.

Which is why she’s about to give Logan the blowjob of his life.

It’s about firsts, is what she figures. Just like Leya Bridges, she had one of her firsts taken from her—the choice, the memory, everything. And yeah, it was the big first, the one that everyone says matters, and she’s not Leya, so she’s not going to just pretend it never happened, as much as she wishes she’d stop running into people and cases that make it come rushing back. It makes her flinch between her legs when she thinks about it, and then it makes her body empty out of feeling until she’s one cold numbness, and she’s fully prepared for that being the best it will ever get because life’s a bitch that way.

But there are other firsts, ones she can pick. And, while this may surprise certain elements of the Neptune populace who were once well-versed in jokes about Veronica giving the football team some post-game TLC, there are a lot of sexual activities she hasn’t tried yet. Chief among them? Having someone cum in her mouth.

She almost did with Duncan a couple of times, but he always warned her when he was close, and she always pulled away and finished him off with her hand, or later with him inside her, and if he minded he never said anything. With Logan, things just move so quickly most of the time, clothes ripped off and tossed aside, heat even in the awkward moments, that there’s barely time for them to get out the condom, let alone engage in extended oral foreplay. Which, Veronica is weirdly ashamed to admit, she’s usually a bit relieved about.

She isn’t sure what her big hesitation is, except that it kind of grosses her out, but she’s an adult now and blowjobs are a thing that people do and most importantly they’re a thing she can choose to do, right now, today. This is what she tells herself as she rides the elevator up to Logan’s suite.

* * *

While some girls were practicing for their first kiss on pillows, Lilly Kane was developing a more advanced oral skill set with every glass bottle and popsicle that crossed her path. Veronica’s role in these practice sessions was mostly to giggle uncomfortably, but she still remembers the _Cosmo_ magazines sprinkled with gel-pen-circled tips: _oral sex that’ll blow his mind._

She’s even less of a _Cosmo_ girl now than she was then—she hasn’t bought a single issue since Lilly died—and most of the tips she remembers are the outrageous, the impractical; the ones that they’d both laughed at, lounging by the side of the pool. _Slip a donut over his dick and eat it off. Poke his balls with a fork. Fill your mouth with peppermint candies for a fire-and-ice feel._

Veronica would smile at the memory, but her mouth is currently otherwise occupied. Even more occupied than she’s used to, in fact; she did do her research, using sources other than _Cosmo_ , and concluded that the best way for her to up her blowjob game is to let things go a little...deeper. So now she’s practically gagging—wait, hold that thought, she’s _definitely_ gagging—and this is...honestly less hot than she was hoping it would be. But the sounds Logan is making are breathy and beautiful, so when he says, “Can I?,” hands in her hair, she nods, and then he’s pressing her head down, her lips brushing his pubic hair, and he gasps, and she wonders how it was with Lilly, with Kendall, and that’s not actually a thought she wants to have, but she has to think of something other than his cock pressing against her throat, because she’d rather be somewhere else, except no, the whole point of this is that she’s here, she’s present, she’ll remember this in the morning, and she’s choosing this, no one’s making her or drugging her, she wants this, so if she doesn’t like it that ruins everything, this is stupid, she’s had sex before and a blowjob is less of a big deal than that, why can’t she just like this so it means what she wanted it to mean—

Logan yanks her head back abruptly, his cock slipping out of her mouth with an audible pop to lie erect, straining against his belly. He studies her face. “Are you crying?”

“A little gag reflex never hurt anyone,” says Veronica, but dammit, she knows Logan can see right through her, and in that moment she hates him for it.

“I’m not doing this if you’re crying, my god, Veronica.” Logan lets go of her hair, throwing his arm over his face in a movement that manages to look lazy and irritated at the same time.

Veronica tries again. “Can’t you tell I’m into this? I want…” she trails off, unsure how much dirty talk she’s currently able to pull off.

“No. I can’t, and that’s the problem. What happens when you wake up tomorrow and regret it and go telling everyone about how much pressure you felt and how I took advantage of you?”

Veronica pictures a cartoon fist punching her face, cartoon clouds of dizziness spinning around her head. “Charming. And here I thought you were worried about me. But you just want to make sure I don’t have grounds to _cry rape_?” God, does he think that’s what she did, before, what she’d do ever?

The look on Logan’s face is guilt, but what that means when it comes to him is anyone’s guess.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” he says, and she didn’t realize she was hoping for a different response until he says it.

“It sure doesn’t seem to be dampening your enthusiasm,” Veronica says viciously, directing a pointed stare at his still-stiff cock.

Logan’s mouth twists upwards. “Haven’t you heard? I like taking stupid risks. It’s one of my numerous flaws.”

“Then you won’t mind if I continue?” It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Nothing is going according to plan.

“Forgive me for not buying this brand-new desperate cocksucker thing you’ve got going on.”

Veronica isn’t sure why she’s angry anymore, but it’s better than crying. “I just wanted to try something new. It’s really not that complicated.” _You’re the one making this complicated_ , she leaves unsaid, hanging in the air.

“So I think it might be best for both of us if this is the part where you storm out. I would, but—” he gestures at the bedroom, opulent hotel colour scheme interrupted by scattered dirty laundry—“I kind of live here.”

Veronica grits her teeth. He’s even ruined the satisfaction of leaving. But she nonetheless gets up, slipping back into her jeans, because she’s dangerously close to crying again and no way does she want him to know. “Have fun with your hand,” she says, pausing at the doorway, off-balance but still determined to have the last word.

Logan smiles, open and friendly and utterly fake. “You too. I know how much that turned you on. You must be _dripping_ by now.”

Veronica turns and walks away so he won’t see her tears.

* * *

Leya grabs her cafeteria tray as soon as Veronica sits down across from her, clearly ready to bolt. Veronica raises her hands in what she hopes is a conciliatory hand gesture. “I just wanted to let you know I’m not going to tell Fabian,” she says, before Leya can get up and leave.

Leya raises her eyebrows. “What happened to ‘ _He’s really worried about you_ ’?”

Veronica shrugs. “I never should have taken the case. I’m just going to say I found nothing and I’m too busy with school. I’m not going to bill him. I know I hurt you and I’m sorry.”

“Why the sudden change of heart?”

Veronica isn’t sure how to explain it. It’s not that she thinks Leya is making the best decision, although really, she’s one to talk. It’s more that she’s realizing people don’t always make the best decisions when they’ve had things like this happen to them, but that’s something they should get to figure out for themselves. Or not. Hell, she’s not sure she’ll ever have her shit figured out.

“Even if you’re making the wrong decision, a nosy ex isn’t going to help.” Veronica cringes. That’s maybe not the way she should have phrased it.

“Wow. Um, OK. Well, I appreciate your sudden concern, but once you implied you might tell Fabian everything, I told him first. And you’re right, telling a nosy ex that I was raped didn’t help at all. He just made it all about him, which is why I never told him in the first place, you know? He’s just _so hurt_ that I never told him this _major secret_ because I clearly didn’t _trust him enough to let him help_.”

“I’m...so sorry, Leya. I didn’t mean—”

“It doesn’t matter now, does it?” Leya picks up her lunch tray and rises to her feet. “You’ve got issues, Veronica Mars.”

“Don’t I know it,” Veronica mutters, but Leya is already gone.

* * *

Logan is leaning against her car in the student parking lot. Veronica wonders how long he’s been waiting—she wasn’t expecting him, and she stayed late after her shift in the library to study. “About yesterday…” he says, pushing himself off the trunk with careless grace.

Veronica grimaces. “I don’t want things to be like that with us. Can we just—pretend it never happened?”

Logan looks at her with an intensity that makes her turn away. “Are you sure you’re OK?”

Veronica laughs bitterly. “No. But this is where I’m at, with—” she waves her hand vaguely—“things.”

She moves to stand beside him, cautiously at first, but then he nods, his hand settling on her waist firm as ever, his fingers digging into her hip like he’s not the least bit afraid that she could be fragile. It feels like it means everything, but she can never tell with them.


End file.
